Her Glory Throws Long Shadows
by ShamelessLiar
Summary: After her recovery in the South Pole, Korra returns to Republic City to restore the bending of Amon's victims and help with the mopping-up of Equalists. Yet danger is all around. Iroh struggles to maintain control not only of the city but of his own United Forces, an assassination plot brews, and Korra's friends fight to keep Team Avatar together. Ships and rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Who else can't wait for Book 2? :D

I don't ship Makorra. If you cannot bear the thought of them breaking up, this may not be the story for you. I'm leaning pretty hard toward some Korra/Iroh (Korroh? Korriroh?) possibilities, but neither character is there to begin with. We'll see how it all develops. :)

* * *

Korra sat with her friends in Oogi's saddle and, eyes shut, let the air buffet her face. There was something wonderful that she had never noticed about the way air felt at once solid and then fluid, how it pressed in and then was gone.

Before Amon had shut the pathways to her elements, she had not thought much about air. Certainly, she had tried to master it with force of will and physical strength, but as a source of so much frustration, air had not earned the right – by Korra's estimation – to be appreciated as more than a substance for breathing. Then, that thumb had come down on her brow and shut off all of her other pathways. Suddenly air was all she knew.

Against her side, Mako shifted. His warm arm came around her shoulders and she felt the prickle of his hair as he leaned his forehead against her temple. Korra smiled but did not open her eyes. She was discovering something.

The bison ride to the South Pole had been agony. When she was conscious, every brush of the wind had reminded her of the elements stripped from her. When she was not, she dreamed of a raspy voice and a cool thumb and all the muscles on her body shriveling, all of the teeth breaking out of her mouth.

Korra hated helplessness more than anything. As the Avatar, she had trained from childhood and had total confidence in her bending and in her body. Korra was strong. It was a part of what made her who she was.

And then there was Amon, who had ways of making all that strength meaningless. For the first time in her life, Korra had known fear. Then, the thing she feared came to pass and something strange had happened; she had survived. She had saved Mako despite the bloodbending, despite everything. It should have been a comfort – and it was – but a cold one when Katara made her diagnosis.

Mako's lips pressed against Korra's cheek, shockingly hot after all the chilly wind. His fingers came to her jaw and she let him guide her head to turn, let him tip her mouth to meet his. The past few days had held a lot of these kisses and Korra reveled in the pleasure each time Mako initiated them. A heady thing, being wanted by someone she had wanted for so long. Love. They were in love.

It had almost been enough to make the dark moment easy to forget. Almost.

When Korra had ridden Naga away from the village, when she had stood out on the cliffs and stared out at the vast ocean, the idea spread in her mind like a blot of ink on a wet page.

_I need to die._

It wasn't the abandonment of hope or the crippling self-pity, though both were heavy upon her. It was her duty. As the Avatar, Korra could not bring balance to the world with just one element. She had to die so that the Avatar could be born again, clean of Amon's monstrous bloodbending technique.

It wasn't fair and it wasn't in her nature to do it at all to begin with. Korra didn't want to die. She wanted to live, and kiss the boy she loved, and ride Naga across the tundra. She didn't want to hurl herself off a cliff; she wanted to hurl herself against life in the kind of wrestling match that ended with stitches and broken bones. Yet she had to die, and if she didn't kill herself, who would?

This was exactly the internal debate Korra was having when Aang appeared to her on the cliff. And then, in a white flash that set the ice plains to glittering, everything had been made better. And it just kept getting better.

Mako ended the kiss and stroked Korra's jaw until she opened her eyes. At first, all she saw was him, his brilliant yellow eyes, his beautiful face. He was so handsome when he smiled. It was nearly blinding.

But not blinding enough that she did not see Bolin and Asami sitting together against the far side of the saddle, peering determinedly out over the edge. Bolin waved his hand at something that Korra couldn't see from her angle but was sure to be far, far below. "That, for instance, is um, probably close to, ah… Well just look at how big it is. We'll reach the mainland before you know it."

Asami said something low that Korra could not catch over the wind. Her down-turned face and hunched shoulders were pretty easy to read, though.

"Hey," said Mako. His fingers on Korra's chin tugged harder until she looked back at him. "What's wrong?"

Korra narrowed her eyes briefly. Had he been this blind to her when she was the one looking with abnormal interest at nothing? Still, her tone was level. "Don't you think we might be making Asami and Bolin uncomfortable?"

His eyebrows rose and he shot a glance at the other teens. "They aren't even looking at us."

"Gee, I wonder why." So much for the level tone.

Mako frowned at her, squeezing her tight with that arm that was still around her shoulders. "Bolin and I are brothers, Korra. We can get through anything. And Asami and I have talked. Things are okay. She understands."

Korra wasn't convinced. Partly because she'd spent so much time with Mako in the past week or so that there was no way he had really taken the time to talk to Asami. And partly because Korra still remembered how well she had understood when it was her in that awkward position. It was a kind of soul-crushing understanding, knowing that Mako didn't feel the same way. Asami raised her hand to point at something and Korra could see the way she moved just a little more sluggishly than normal, like someone suffering an extended convalescence. Things definitely weren't okay.

But Korra didn't want to drive Mako away now that she had him. So she laid her head against his shoulder and stared in another direction so she wouldn't have to look at Asami or meet Mako's eye. "If you say so," she said.

Under her head, Mako sighed and rubbed his hand up and down her arm. She didn't move closer or away and, after a minute, he stopped.

At the front of the saddle, Pema was dozing with the baby in her arms. Her children were arranged around her, snuggling close or sprawling like road-killed rabbit-dillos. Korra could look at that scene and smile. Could that be her future now? A happy marriage with Mako and a few kids (absolutely not four)?

Korra hadn't really thought about that kind of thing before she left the South Pole for the first time. She had had a couple of boyfriends, sure. (Heck, she was the Avatar. Who wouldn't want to date the Avatar?) But no one she had really taken all that seriously. Water Tribe men were funny about strong women. They claimed they loved strong women but that definition was different for them than it was for Korra. To Korra, a strong woman was someone who engaged in knock-down drag-out fights whenever the need arose. To most Water Tribe men, a strong woman was someone who could spend an entire day butchering tiger-seals and processing meat and hides, and then cook a decent supper. Korra was fully aware that this was tough work that required physical strength, endurance, and specialized skills, but she didn't think it marked any measure of exceptionality. All the women in the South Pole did this stuff.

Except for Korra, who had spent so much of her time training that she had never really mastered any of it. This put her in an awkward position with boys, who were very impressed with her bending and thought she made a great buddy and were even eager to date her – but couldn't quite envision her as the 'marrying type.' So Korra had decided that none of that mattered and she would be an awesome Avatar anyway and have fun bending and beating up bad guys and who cared if she never got married.

Now there was Mako, the thrill of his touches, and all the exciting futures Korra hadn't really allowed herself to imagine before. With her head on his shoulder, she could allow herself to shut her eyes again and forget all the obstacles, all the things that weren't okay. She could even forget having ever seen Asami's head rest in the same place.

* * *

"General Iroh," said Lieutenant Nodako. She stood at attention at his open door, a slip of paper in one hand and a salute in the other. "There was a wire for you, sir. From Command."

Iroh rose from the borrowed desk where he had been scribbling out a rough estimate of the hours it would take to search the tunnels under the city for the Equalists' new base, and crossed the room in three strides. "Thank you Lieutenant," he said.

He took the paper and dismissed her, but Nodako hesitated. She glanced at Iroh, then stared into the distance while speaking. "Permission to make a request, General?"

The Lieutenant was an older woman, somewhere past forty, and the uniform jacket she wore had always been a bit tight around the middle. Now, it hung slightly open having lost a few brass buttons at sea. Her hair was cut in the short military style but she still wore a Southern Water Tribe bead in front of one ear. Iroh realized he had never noticed that before. So he invited her into his office, the office he had been granted the use of during his stay in Republic City, and shut the door.

When they were seated on either side of his desk, Iroh laid the wire aside and sat back in his chair. "Go ahead, Lieutenant."

Nodako's expression was stoic, grim. "I can't speak for Lieutenant Cheng, but my soldiers are wound tight. Hybo and Machi were making cracks today about resigning without commission if they have to smooth out another street."

Iroh's jaw clenched and he sat forward. "Do you expect them to desert?"

"Not those two. Their mouths run faster than any other part of them. It's the new waterbenders I worry about. They aren't integrating into the unit well." She paused, then crossed her arms. "They're taking a lot of cues from Teklek, sir. I know what happened to his unit. It's tragic and I've got all the sympathy in the world for him but he still balks at my orders. Now it's rubbing off on my waterbenders. If it doesn't stop soon I'll have outright insubordination."

"What exactly is your request, Lieutenant?" Iroh asked. As if he couldn't already guess. His eyes flicked to the wire from Command. He clearly had more important things to do.

Nodako firmed her chin and looked at him as she spoke now. "General, I'm requesting that Teklek be transferred into Cheng's unit."

Frowning, Iroh peered down his nose at her. Teklek had been a lieutenant before the battle, and had seniority over Nodako but had refused to take over her unit, most of which had survived. It had been an honorable sacrifice for an officer to make. Nodako should be grateful yet here she stood, complaining. "Why are you bringing this to me instead of Major Chogachi?"

"I already have, sir. Three days ago."

"And?"

"He told me to deal with it on my own, sir."

Iroh wanted to rub the throbbing place in his temple and ask why she was here, again, but he looked at that bead that he had never noticed before. There were a lot of things he hadn't noticed before. "And just what did you do to deal with it, Lieutenant?"

Nodako briefly explained the conversations she'd had with Teklek, both before and after her meeting with the Major. "Every time he reassures me that he isn't trying to undermine my authority. And I believe him, but that doesn't make it stop." She'd stayed calm up to this point and her voice was still steady and low but her hands at her sides were creeping into fists. "Small stuff. The way he phrases questions. His complete lack of hustle. I issue an order and Teklek smiles like I'm a kid and he's my damn father." She blinks, glances at Iroh. "Sorry, sir. I really didn't want to bother you with this but…"

Iroh frowned. "But I know what it's like."

Nodako's lips thinned but she didn't apologize again. "Yes, sir."

Iroh stood from his chair and slowly paced to the window. Below, Republic City buzzed with late afternoon traffic. People were living their lives again here despite all the work the United Forces still had ahead. Iroh clasped his hands behind him. "It's like Major Chogachi said, Lieutenant. You have to deal with it yourself. Teklek will trust you when you prove to him that he should." He looked back over his shoulder. "You don't believe me."

Nodako was gripping the arms of her chair hard and her jaw was hard and her right eye twitched. "Sir, Teklek is a Northerner. He'll only trust me to command if I magically turn into a man."

Iroh hesitated, then turned to face her fully. "He requested to be in your unit, Lieutenant."

Her mouth fell open and her eyes shot wide. She stammered and was quiet.

Iroh returned to his chair and sat slowly. "Trust yourself to command and trust your soldiers to follow. If you can't do that, resign. Understood?"

Nodako blinked and, still seated, bowed. "Yes, General Iroh. I understand."

"Good. Dismissed."

She bowed again at the door. "Thank you, sir." Then she shut the door behind her and was gone.

Iroh finally gave in to the urge and rubbed his temple. Every day was a long day in Republic City, full of little agonies like headaches and this. He hated lying to his soldiers. The only request Teklek had made was that he be allowed as little responsibility for the lives of others as possible. He, a waterbender, had watched his entire unit drown before he could save even one of them. That sort of thing left a scar. Probably, he was trying hard to fall back into line as a private. With a new boost of confidence, Nodako would be able to see that. And if he really was trying to undermine her, she'd have to bull through that obstacle on her own anyway. Transfers would take more adjustments for everyone and no one had the energy for that nonsense now.

At last, Iroh took his fingers from his temple and picked up the wire. If it was from Command, it was important. He probably shouldn't have spent all that time listening to one lieutenant complain. He scanned the message quickly, shot to his feet, and then read it again. The paper fall like a leaf to the desk. Iroh left the office through a side door into the former meeting room beyond.

It was sparse; all the loaned quarters in City Hall were. A cot was set up against one wall and there was a trunk for the few clothes Iroh had been given. He removed his red coat and hung it from the back of a chair. Someone had stitched a new sleeve on it and scrubbed most of the stains out. Without it, Iroh felt almost cold. He crossed the room to a small altar he had set up under the window and sat cross-legged on the floor there.

Iroh was not the sort of man to make mistakes. He grew up listening to the heroic stories of his grandfather and great-uncle, how they joined the cause for balance and peace and fought beside Avatar Aang when the resistance had seemed almost beaten. As a child, he would sit listening to his father speak so proudly and feel a wild swoop in his heart. He wanted his father to be that proud of him one day, too.

"They forged the trail to honor and glory for us, Iroh," Weiko would say, gripping the boy's shoulder. He stood very tall and gazed down on his son. "All you have to do is follow in their footsteps."

So Iroh did. Since Weiko sat the fire throne after Zuko's death and Iroh's older brother was next in line, Iroh turned to the path of his namesake. He entered military service as an officer and surged to the top of the ranks in just a few short years through determination and hard work. When other young officers relaxed at the end of the day, Iroh studied strategy. When they went home to visit their families for holidays, Iroh volunteered for undesirable command posts. He hunted the bandits that plagued the roads throughout the United Republic, chased pirates, and even rooted out the last of the old players in the Fire Supremacist Movement. As it turned out, Iroh had an instinct for spotting potential sources of trouble and his mind was a machine for formulating military strategies. Some even called him a prodigy, though he waved that aside as exaggeration. Hard work. Determination. That was his grandfather's way and it would be his too.

The day he was granted the title General, Iroh prayed at the graves of his ancestors, expressing his gratitude for all they had done. He hoped they would be proud and would continue to guide him to be a wise and just commander.

It was guidance he sorely needed. As the youngest General in the history of the United Forces, Iroh could not afford to make mistakes. Though he had held the post successfully for almost a year now – and had certainly cut a sharper image of a General than Bumi could manage – his appointment was far from uncontested. There were members of Command who still scrutinized his every move.

Yet this had not been on Iroh's mind much as Republic City settled into the rhythms of reconstruction. His political opponents had in fact completely slipped his mind in the struggle of the past week. He hadn't even been meditating. There had been no time for that _and_ sleep.

Sitting before the altar, Iroh drew a deep breath and fire sparked on the wicks of the two candles. He reached out with one hand and smoke plumed off the end of an incense stick, filling the room with its aroma. Then Iroh unlaced the pouch at his belt, drew out the two tokens of his ancestors, and arranged and rearranged them on the altar before him. He straightened the knife to sit perfectly horizontal before him, slid the Pai Sho tile a hair's breadth forward, then back again.

It was all Iroh had of his ancestors now – the Earth Kingdom knife and the old lotus tile. There were other things at home, of course, but Iroh had brought tokens with him for luck. Thankfully, he carried these two on his person so that even when the ship went down, they did not. The other things he had kept in his cabin on the ship were lost in the explosion. But he did not want to think about that now. Iroh lowered his hand and was still. Through the window, the lights of the city winked on as the day went pink and then night came on. In a room somewhere above, someone was pacing.

For the first time since the battle, Iroh tried to meditate. Yet his mind would not be still. Not with so much to think about, so much to consider.

He thought a lot about the Equalists, scattered and in hiding without their leader but still very much a threat. He thought of the missing council members and police, the bombed streets slowly being repaired by too-few earthbenders, and Amon, who had vanished. With a glimmer of hope, he thought of the wire they had received just days ago from Avatar Korra informing them of her surprising recovery and her immanent return to Republic City. Iroh knew there was a strategy for all of this, if he could just turn it over in his head enough.

Yet other things preyed on his thoughts as well, things for which there were no strategies. There was the one pilot who had died before he could jump from his plane during the fighting, a man whose terrified face was still bright on the backs of Iroh's eyelids. There was the sparse remainder of the first division, a few units slapped together from the scraps of thirty-five. And of course, always, the thirty-three lost fighting and engineer units, totaling nearly four hundred enlistees. Three hundred ninety-six, to be precise.

Iroh pressed his hands to his face and, behind them, bared his teeth. He felt the taut pull of his skin as it creased in places unfamiliar with grief. Three hundred ninety-six soldiers. Three hundred ninety-six letters he had been forced to write far too quickly in the evenings since the battle. Very soon, when those letters reached their destinations, three hundred ninety-six families would shatter with grief.

There was no number for how much Iroh hated himself. Not only had he failed to recognize the Equalists' trap before it was too late, he had fled the wreckage without his soldiers. He had taken it upon himself to write all of the letters, but he had dozed off writing them some nights and had been relieved when they were finally out of his hands. As penance, it made for a pathetic effort.

Iroh was not the sort of man who made mistakes to begin with. Now that he had failed so horrifically and at the cost of so much life, he did not know what to do. How does a man claw his way up from disgrace? How does he hold his head up long enough to do it?

Iroh tore his hands from his face and sat up straight again, breathing deeply and forcing his expression into something almost calm. His eyes fell on the knife in its sheath. The Pai Sho tile. He wanted to pray to his ancestors, to beg their forgiveness and guidance. But he could not. He did not deserve the help of heroes.

Apparently, Command was in agreement. The text of the wire sprang back to his mind, cruelly memorized already.

General Iroh,

We have taken your report as well as those of your surviving officers under consideration and have found your actions, while exemplary in some cases, warrant inquiry in others. A sanctioned agent will arrive in three days. Until such time, refrain from taking any major action without consulting with Commander Bumi beforehand. We trust you will cooperate fully with the upcoming audit and all resulting decisions.

Head Councilman Takichi

While he sometimes labored to understand the subtleties of Command, Iroh did not have a problem reading between the lines of this wire. He was being babysat by that maniac Bumi – his subordinate, for Agni's sake – while they deliberated as to just how to punish him for his calamitous failure.

Something horrible was building inside him, something he had never really felt before. It had been two weeks since the battle and Iroh had packed his days with work and his nights with writing letters. Even his sleep was torn between nightmares and hours spent awake, turning the situation over in his mind. Now there were no letters to write and no duties to perform. The nights had grown impossibly long, filled only with Iroh and his self-loathing slowly building up. And up.

With a roar, Iroh grabbed the little table upon which he'd built his altar and hurled it across the room. It struck the far wall and left a deep gouge behind, then clattered upside down to the floor. The candles flared then puffed out as they hit the floor. Cracks furrowed the wax while the incense crushed to powder.

The knife fell abruptly and did not so much as roll, as if it was unimpressed. The lotus tile spun on its edge with a tiny rhythmic huffing, wobbled, and fell flat.

Iroh had never been the sort of man to make mistakes. Now he had, and he didn't know what kind of man he was anymore.

A man who threw tables, apparently. He stood glaring at the mess he had made for a long moment, a little shocked and a little satisfied. Iroh had never thrown a table across a room before. He had never had the urge. Because he had only just ruined himself for the first time. His career, his reputation, his honor; it all dangled by a thread while every minute an agent with a pair of scissors was coming closer.

He had to sleep. Night had deepened and grown quiet while he sat. Iroh started to step over the scattered objects from his altar but could not. Unwilling, undeserving, he knelt and picked up the knife and the tile and returned them to the pocket at his hip. It was pointless. The blessings would not come again for such a disgrace as Iroh.

The pouch was still at his hip when he laid down to sleep and he did not notice it but his finger tapped the outside as he counted, as he counted every night, to three-hundred ninety-six.

* * *

The hut was ramshackle, an old storage shed mounted on a rocky outcropping over the sea. The walls were slatted wood that kept most of the wind out but the roof was rotting. As soon as this storm rolled in, everything inside would be soaked. 'Everything inside' consisted mostly of broken boat parts and there was a work bench with rusty tools scattered around. Dust lay thick over everything. There was nothing useful here.

On a bed of gathered seagrass, Tarrlok bared his teeth and groaned. It sounded like he was probably in a lot of pain. Not undeserved. He was such a weakling.

"Wake up, Tarrlok," Amon said quietly. "It's time to face a brand-new day."

He could see the way Tarrlok cringed at their mother's words spoken so hatefully, even after all this time. It crossed Amon's mind that something awful might have happened to her. Maybe the old man had lost what pitiful grip he'd had on reality and hurt her. It didn't matter. Not really. All that mattered was that Tarrlok kept failing to silence that tiny cry as he breathed. So much pain, so much sorrow. It was almost enough to make up for what the little coward had tried to do to them.

"I said wake up. Or do I need to make you?" Amon raised a hand, crooked his fingers.

Tarrlok jolted upright, body rigid under Amon's hold but not so firmly gripped that he could not scream and reach for one arm with the other. Amon stood looming over him and his mouth curled upward at the edges as he watched. Tarrlok's left hand flew through the space where his right arm should have been and slapped against his bandaged ribs. Amon only smirked harder as he released his hold and watched the frightened widening of his brother's eyes. Tarrlok was gasping and his movements were stiff, sharp as if he was still being bloodbent. It had to hurt, grabbing at all that scorched skin, but he kept searching for that arm anyway.

"Don't be so stupid, Tarrlok. You'll make me regret saving you from the fire."

Tarrlok finally looked back at him, expression a little furious, a little feral. "You weren't supposed to save me. You weren't supposed to survive."

Amon laughed, hard and cold. "Oh, so that was an attempt to assassinate me? I hadn't realized you could squirm any lower. An explosion behind my back? At sea, Tarrlok?" He held out his arms despite his own scorched back and grinned. "Perhaps you have forgotten that I am an unmatched waterbending master."

But his brother's eyes were quicker than they had been when he was a boy. Tarrlok must have spotted Amon's grin faltering into a grimace for just that instant. "But you still aren't the greatest healer, are you Noatak?"

Amon paused, just for a heartbeat, then bent and slapped his brother with a crack of knuckles on cheek. Tarrlok folded under the force of the blow and would have fallen back on the grass if Amon didn't grab a fistful of his ruined blue coat and drag him back upright. "Noatak is years dead. I am Amon. Amon." Tarrlok, gritting his teeth, grabbed the fist under his chin with that one good hand. Amon jerked him hard and went on. "And you're lucky I was strong enough to put your face back on. Brother."

Tarrlok stared up at him and it was as if all the years hadn't truly put so much space between their minds after all because Amon could practically hear in the bruising of his recently-healed cheek, _just like the good old days._ Yakone, he remembered, had been a true master of the back-hand.

But all Tarrlok said was, "Why did you bother? Have you become so cruel that you enjoy watching me suffer?" There was a little blood between his teeth.

Amon smiled and patted his brother's cheek sharply enough to make him blink. "I told you, Tarrlok. You are all I have left."

Tarrlok glared up at him through his loose hair. His eyes were searching, discerning in a way that they had never been when he was a boy. Not ever. Amon resisted the urge to slap him again. Outside, the rain began, drilling the roof overhead. At last, Tarrlok said, "You and I both know the bonds between us are severed. What is it that you want from me?"

The wind was truly howling outside, a grieving keen of water and wind, a growl of distant surf. Amon released Tarrlok's coat and let him fall abruptly back on the pallet with a grunt. They watched each other as Amon slowly rose to his feet. He was steady now, numb, and his hand was did not so much as quaver as he pointed a finger at his brother. At the man who used to be his brother. Once.

"You have ruined everything. You told the Avatar my former identity. You destroyed years of my work with the Equalists and may even have single-handedly given a teenaged girl the power to put down the entire revolution." Amon crossed his arms and slowly paced the tiny space available, still watching the man on the mat. "And still I freed you from that cell. Saved you from Republic City's justice. I even healed you after you attempted to kill me." He stopped pacing and frowned. "You owe me quite a debt, Tarrlok."

"You took my bending. I would say that we've reached a point of equilibrium. Equality, even."

Amon narrowed his eyes at the almost-smirk on Tarrlok's face. "I may have become cruel, but you did worse by becoming a politician."

Tarrlok said nothing. His dull expression betrayed nothing. Politician.

"You are going to help me kill the Avatar."

That hit him. Tarrlok's eyes grew wide and he bared his teeth. "And if I refuse?"

Amon crouched down to his level, bringing his face in very close. "Then you will experience a lot of pain, Tarrlok. Afterwards you will still help me, but first there will be pain." He tipped his face to one side, unblinking. "Do you remember the sort of pain I can give you? Do you need a reminder, little brother?"

Tarrlok swallowed. "You are not my brother anymore," he whispered. The rain was so heavy overhead, it seemed it could bring the roof down at any moment, a whole heap of rot to break their silence. Amon did not once look away from Tarrlok's eyes, which finally dropped. "Yes, Amon," he said. "I will help you kill the Avatar."


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I don't own any of this stuff. There! Disclaimed.

* * *

They hit the southern edge of the storm in the late morning but, with Oogi groaning and surging over the tall pillars of cloud, they stayed out of the rain until they came close to Republic City in the afternoon. When it could no longer be avoided, Tenzin guided his bison into a spiraling decent and Korra raised her hands to bend back the vapor and rain.

And there was a lot of rain. Beneath the clouds, it was pummeling the city, washing away the last debris and sooty explosion stains. Korra initially just blocked the water from falling on the bison's back, but then began experimenting with airbending, splitting drops with quick upward gusts. Mako settled a warm hand on her lower back to steady her, though, and she went back to simply blocking the water with smooth sweeps of her hands. It was easier that way.

"Ah, home sweet home!" Bolin tugged Asami's sleeve and pointed at something in the docks far below. "That's where I got my first job! And there's the house we lived in before we got into pro bending! Man, I've seen some big spider-rats but the ones that live in that place are _huge_…"

Asami spared a look over the rim of the saddle and shuddered. "How big is huge?"

Bolin started measuring out proportions between his hands. His thick fingers made the imaginary spider-rats seem even more horrific. Asami's mouth turned down and her eyes grew steadily wider.

"Bolin, stop exaggerating," said Mako. His hand still rested on Korra's back, though he was looking across the saddle now. "They never came into our room, anyway. We only ever saw them in that shared kitchen."

"That's because Pabu is a natural spider-ratter. Aren't you, boy?" Bolin held up Pabu under his stumpy arms and gazed into the little red creature's eyes. His back legs dangled under the orb of his fuzzy white belly. "Yup," Bolin said softly. "That's a predator's gaze if I ever saw one."

"Yeah," Korra said, grinning as she went on bending the rain. "I saw him preying on a helpless piece of blubbered seal jerky a couple days ago. Don't worry, Asami. If Pabu is half that good at attacking spider-rats, Republic City will be vermin-free inside a week."

Asami smiled and peered speculatively at Pabu, who was presently wrapping himself like a scarf around Bolin's neck. She opened her mouth to say something, but Mako spoke first.

He was smiling, watching Korra from the corner of his eye. "That's only gonna happen if we cover all the spider-rats in blubber first."

"Ugh." Asami made a face. Korra only barely heard the sound and cut her laughter short. That's right. Asami wasn't a fan of blubbered anything, and putting blubber on spider-rats would only make the pests more detestable to her.

"Oh!" Bolin clasped his hands together under his chin. "We could make that a part of the Equalists' community service sentence! After they repair all the explosion damage and make the formal apology and—"

Mako gritted out a sigh. "Bolin, it's not gonna be that easy. The last wire we got from General Iroh said that his soldiers are having trouble figuring out who's an Equalist and who isn't. We're going to have to hunt down every one of them."

They all fell silent. Korra remembered how many people had attended Amon's rallies. Hundreds. Thousands, even. It could take years to sort out who had taken part in the uprising and who was innocent, not to mention distinguishing who had actively fought in Amon's war and who had simply been coerced into attending Equalist events. There would be trials and raids for years to come as they worked all this out – and that would mean a whole lot of innocent people suffering in the meantime. Could there be an easier solution?

Rain splattered her cheek. Korra gritted her teeth and focused on her bending. Maybe later she could meditate and connect with Aang. Maybe he would know what to do. Right now, though, Korra needed to focus on one step at a time.

Oogi swept down to land on the roof of City Hall where General Iroh was already waiting, backed by a pair of officers. A waterbender private in the back was keeping the group dry. As she hopped down to the roof, Korra noticed how stiff the waterbender's movements were, how his fingers didn't quite hold the positions they should have. Rain dotted the shoulders of every red coat. All the eyes on her were weary, yet as Iroh stepped forward to meet her, his back was perfectly straight and his faint smile was genuine. The two officers came along with him.

"Avatar Korra," he said. "Welcome back to Republic City. You'll remember Commander Bumi and Major Chogachi."

"Yes," Korra said, though she didn't really. A lot of what she had seen before leaving the city had been blurred by the weight of her loss. Chogachi, a stout man with long sideburns and a pointed mustache, she did not remember at all. Still, Korra smiled to see that Bumi was as tall and wild-haired as her memory suggested. Both men bowed in greeting, but Bumi's movement was oddly stiff.

Somewhere behind Korra, Ikki squeaked, "Uncle Bumi!"

"General?" Bumi inclined his head toward Iroh, though his eyes were set over Korra's shoulder. He seemed even stiffer now. With restrained energy, she realized.

"Granted," Iroh said. His tone was long-suffering but the corners of his mouth were curled slightly upward.

"Woo!" Bumi very suddenly dropped into a crouch to catch the two children who swarmed him. His teeth were brilliant when he grinned, picking both of the kids up at once in an enormous hug. "General, look at these little bees I caught!" Ikki and Meelo giggled and squirmed in his long arms. Meelo was trying very hard to grab a fistful his uncle's hair.

Iroh and Chogachi both stood with hands clasped behind their backs. The Major heaved a sigh but Korra could tell Iroh was fighting harder against that smile. He said, "Fine specimens, Commander Bumi. Looks like you missed a couple, though."

Jinora had come at a more dignified pace than her siblings, though not by much. She rushed to her uncle's side and threw her arms around his waist. Then she drew back and stood primly apart. "Gran-gran told me to tell you that you are henceforth forbidden to call me a bee. She says I'm a young lady and should be treated as such."

Bumi's face jolted with horror. "You're ten years old."

"Gran-gran says I'm very mature for my age."

Her uncle looked between the faces of the children he held, looked at Jinora, and then turned wide eyes toward Oogi. "Tenzin!"

Tenzin was just helping a baby-carrying Pema settle on the roof and turned a harried eye on his brother. Still carrying a kid in each arm, Bumi marched over to meet them. Jinora trailed after him, letting him know a few other things that Gran-gran had said he was not to do.

Laughing, Korra turned back to the officers to find Iroh smiling fondly after them while Chogachi shook his head. "Unprofessional," the Major said.

"My grandfather believed that a loving family was the best gift a man could hope for," Iroh said. Unaccountably, his smile faded and he turned to Korra. "I hope your journey wasn't too tiring, Avatar. I had kind of hoped to put you to work immediately."

"Whatever I can do to help." Korra nodded. A weight landed on her shoulder. Iroh's brows did a fractional jump but the surprise was quickly concealed. Mako had returned his arm to its familiar position, his hand snug upon her deltoid. For an instant, Korra wanted to shove him off – he was interrupting and she felt strange about it – but he was warm and smiling and she couldn't shove him away when he was smiling like that. She looked back to Iroh, smiling as well. "We're all here to help."

"Excellent. Come with me. Major, see that Master Tenzin isn't forced to choke the Commander."

"Yes, sir," said Chogachi. His indifferent expression seemed to suggest that he might not put his all into the task, but he strode off toward where Bumi was animatedly explaining to his brother why a ten-year-old shouldn't be so _serious_. Tenzin looked a bit purple.

Korra followed Iroh through a service door and down several long flights of stairs. The stairs were narrow enough that Mako had to let go of her shoulder and follow along. Iroh took them down many levels, then along a twisting corridor in which the electric lights hummed softly. His pace was rapid and Korra had to really push to keep up. Behind her, she heard her friends' footsteps, especially Asami when she broke into a trot to close the growing gap.

They passed through a narrow doorway and the dim passageway beyond and came out in a huge assembly hall. It took Korra a moment for her eyes to adjust and in those seconds, many voices picked up in a quick murmur. There was a wide open space with a podium at the front of the room, then many seats arranged in tiered rows. And many, many people.

"Avatar Korra," Iroh said as he stopped at one side of the door, "I have taken the liberty of gathering the majority of the equalized benders who were not taken prisoner by rebels."

Korra's mouth hung slightly open. There were hundreds of them. They were everywhere, rows upon rows of people with tired eyes and slumped shoulders. Some even sat on the floor. There were Chief Beifong's officers. There were the White Lotus guards who had stayed behind on Air Temple Island. There were the red coats of a dozen or so United Forces soldiers. And there, rising from the seats nearest the door, were Tahno and the other two Wolf-bats.

"Some kind of warning would have been nice," Mako said from the doorway. "We've been flying for days."

"Yeah," Bolin said softly. "It would have been nice to know… before seeing them all like this."

Korra turned back to find Iroh frowning at the brothers. "These people are suffering. Some of them have been suffering for weeks. If you two are feeling a bit overwhelmed, you're free to go." Mako shot him a dirty look but Bolin was still gazing around. Pabu hid his face in the collar of Bolin's jacket. Iroh looked to Korra and went on as if Mako wasn't still glaring at him. "Avatar Korra, can you heal these people?"

There was something in the way he watched her, perhaps in the set of his mouth or the angle of his brows, that made Korra certain that this was some kind of test. What exactly she was being tested for, she couldn't guess, but she was sure there would be no second chances if she failed. So Korra straightened her shoulders and nodded. "Yes. I can."

"You can _what_, Avatar?"

Korra rotated on her heel and automatically glared at Tahno, who was only an arm's length away. It was very nearly the same mocking tone he had used in the noodle shop and even though that seemed like months ago now, it touched the same nerve.

But it wasn't quite loud enough for the rest of the room to hear. When she looked at him, Korra could see that even though the goofy-haired creepster was smirking like his old self, sleeplessness still hung dark circles under his eyes and one of his eyelids twitched with his heartbeat. He wasn't back, whatever he wanted to pretend, but his effort was reassuring in a weird, confrontational kind of way.

"There've been a lot of rumors about you around town, _Avatar_. People will believe anything." There it was in his eyes, though – a flicker of belief.

Fighting a smile, Korra reset her weight and narrowed her eyes. "You wanna find out for yourself, pretty boy?"

"Well, seeing as we sent you Ferrets swimming once already, I figure I can take whatever you've got to dish out."

"Only if you cheat." But the reminder succeeded. If the Wolf-bats hadn't paid off the ref to win the championship, it could very well have been Korra and her friends who lost their bending that night. "Get on your knees. I haven't got all day."

"Haven't heard that one in a while." Tahno gave his creepy grin and knelt smoothly. His pale eyes were wide and bright as Korra set her thumb against his forehead and her other over his heart. And then she found it, that urging in his spirit toward liquid quickness and ice. She found the path that led nowhere and forged it anew with white light, then let go. Tahno took a breath as if he had not breathed in a month. One leg at a time, he stood and looked around the room, then set his sights and swept his arms in an easy form.

In the third row, a man holding a cup of tea cried out in surprise as the liquid streamed out of his cup and zipped a circuit around the room. Tahno returned the tea to its cup with a pro's precision and turned on Korra. The smile lighting his face actually wasn't creepy for once. "Thank you, Korra." He bowed, then straightened and crossed his arms abruptly. "I mean, I still wish you'd gotten Amon for me, but this is good too."

Korra was about to laugh or curl her lip or say something witty, but the room was getting loud. A lot of people were crying out. Looking out at them now, Korra could see how so many eyes still glittered as if with white light. A lot of them were standing, calling out to her. Everyone wanted to be next.

"Form a line," Iroh shouted. His voice carried throughout the assembly hall, relayed by a few soldiers stationed around the room and people obeyed, lining up behind the other Wolf-bats. Some were calm and waited patiently but many pressed hands against the backs of those ahead of them and peered over shoulders to catch a glimpse of the next bender kneeling. The line reached to the back of the room and curled around along the wall. It seemed to go on forever.

The earthbending Wolf-bat was already kneeling, peering up at her with a highly-repentant look on his face. He ought to be repentant. Korra remembered the rocks-in-the-water trick. Still, she drew a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and raised her hands to work.

* * *

Iroh watched the Avatar restore not just bending, but hope and vitality to a dozen people in a matter of minutes. Each time she set her fingers and brought forth that glow, her face lit up with ancient power. His heart pounded with relief the entire time, though he stood perfectly still.

The Avatar wasn't some flippant teenager. In spirit, she was the same Avatar who had stood with his grandfather to build a peaceful world. Iroh had not realized until this moment just how desperately he had been clinging to the possibility of the Avatar's support in all the trouble and work he expected to come. Without her, he would have been leading alone under the eyes of his critics. With her, his decisions carried the sanction of the Avatar and were worth that much more.

Restoring the bending of those who had lost it was of primary importance, but yes, Iroh had rushed Korra here to get a better measure of her under pressure. At present, all he had to go on was what little he had seen of her in action when the first division had been sunk. That hadn't been anyone's best day.

Even as he assured himself of that though, there was a part of Iroh that had expected to be disappointed today. He had half-expected her to turn into the shoulder of Bolin's brother as she had so often seemed to do before leaving for the South Pole. Perhaps she would flee from the sight of this many hopeless people, so much work to be done.

There were smaller rooms. He could have divided them up and made it seem like a less daunting task. Could have. But Iroh had needed to know. After she had saved his life and hauled his limp body to the dock, he did not clearly remember exactly what she had done next. Did she go back to help his soldiers or did she go immediately with them to the hideout? Iroh was unsure – and he did not want to ask. He did not want the Avatar ruined in his mind by that one bad day.

Now, watching her lay her hands on a one of his soldiers, Iroh could have leapt for joy. Because the Avatar wasn't a teenager wrapped up in her own troubles. Because she was rebuilding these people piece by piece without rest or complaint. Because she was a worthy Avatar and he could believe in her, and trust her judgment when she believed in him. They could be friends, like Zuko and Aang were friends, and they would do the great work of their predecessors. Command would see what he saw in her and they would come to trust him again in time. Everything would work out.

"General Iroh?"

Iroh turned to find Asami Sato standing at his side. Her hair was tangled from too much wind and the kohl she wore around her eyes had smudged at some point. Yet even travel-weary and grieving – as she surely must be after the arrest of her father – she was still one of the most beautiful women he had ever met. "Is there something I can do for you, Miss Sato?"

Over her shoulder, Iroh caught sight of the firebender, Mako, scowling at him again. He pretended not to notice, inclining his head toward Asami. Mentally though, Iroh filed the observation away for later consideration.

"I haven't been feeling well," Asami said with a shrug. She wouldn't look at him. "I don't want to cause a problem, but is there some quiet place I could go to rest for a while?"

"Of course." Iroh turned his head and caught that soldier's eye as he bowed and stepped away from the Avatar, still beaming from her touch. "Private Lau."

Lau hesitated for an instant, then hurriedly approached. His salute was sharp as a knife fresh off the whetstone. "Yes, General."

"Are you ready to return to duty, Private?" As if he needed to ask after a salute like that.

"Yes, sir. Especially if it involves bending a spark or two, sir."

"That is up to Miss Sato." Iroh introduced Asami with the wave of presentation that was appropriate to their respective ranks and classes. Her eyebrows lifted a measure and, faintly, she smiled "Show Miss Sato to the temporary quarters we prepared for the Avatar and her friends."

"Yes sir, right away sir. This way, Miss." Grinning, Lau guided Asami back out the door through which they had come. Distantly, Iroh caught him asking her if she might like some candles lit or a coal-heater or something, anything. He sighed. Perhaps Corporal Lukka may have been a better choice. The Avatar was just now removing her fingers from Lukka's face and he looked immeasurably tranquil as he stood. The water he streamed swirled through the air without so much as rippling.

Behind him, Iroh heard Bolin speak, voice a bit higher than usual. "Ah, you know what? I think Pabu and I just might catch up with Asami and that sparky guy. That was a really long bison ride. I gotta go." There were some quick footsteps.

Then Bolin and his fire ferret were gone and only Mako remained. He stepped up to stand at Iroh's side. For a long while, both firebenders stood silently watching Korra at work. The line didn't seem to be getting much shorter, but the hope did not fade from the faces of the waiting. At last, Mako said, "She's getting tired. If you care."

Iroh cast a sideways glare at him. Mako stood with his arms crossed over his workman's jacket and that scowl still on his face. Genuinely worried, yes, but there was also something else. Something that Iroh did not like. He kept his tone even as he spoke, though. "If the Avatar chooses to carry on when she's tired, I'm not about to contest her decision." Actually, now that he was looking, he could see the sweat beginning to spot the pale blue shirt at the small of Korra's back. Her hands were still steady though, and her light was still bright. Winded, but certainly not exhausted. Still clasping his hands behind his back, Iroh turned on his heel to meet Mako's frown with his own. "You should be more respectful towards her," he said.

"What?" Those pointed eyebrows shot upward, then dove as Mako glanced around to be sure they were not being listened to. "I'm perfectly respectful to Korra. I love her. You're the one who brought us down here before we'd been on the ground for ten minutes. How dare you suggest I don't respect her?" Mako leaned closer, perhaps because he spoke so quietly and perhaps because he was slightly taller than Iroh and wanted to use that advantage for intimidation.

Iroh narrowed his eyes and raised a hand between them to assert his space. He had no intention of allowing this to turn physical in front of so many bystanders but he also would not tolerate some brawler pushing him around. Friend of the Avatar or not. "All I'm saying is that you don't do her any favors by acting familiar in formal situations. We're all allies here but when you question her judgment in front of me, you suggest that I should question it too. And you're wrong. She's the Avatar. The Avatar knows what she's doing."

"I wasn't questioning her judgment. I was pointing out a fact you may have missed while you were busy ordering us around like we're new recruits."

"This city is still a war ground. If you aren't a soldier, you're a civilian and would do well to get out of the way."

"Is that your plan, then? Send all the innocent citizens out there to spend a few months in their summer homes while you work things out? Oh wait, _work_ – princes don't really do that so much, do they?"

* * *

Korra was pressing the limits of her endurance but she kept going, reaching for more strength, always deeper and deeper inside herself. It was an earthbending trick and Korra loved earthbending tricks. Still, as she lifted her hands from the last of the soldiers and he raised a pillar of rock up out of the floor, she knew she was running out of steam. The line still reached all the way to the back of the room, though. She couldn't stop yet. Not with so many left. Not with that desperation in her eyes.

How much of this damage had Amon done in one go? If it took as much energy to take someone's bending as it took to give it back, surely it was impossible that he had done much more than twenty at a time. Korra had a feeling that it didn't work that way, though. Restoring bending was like forging a trail through wilderness where Amon's power had felt like the snipping of a thread.

With the back of her hand, Korra rubbed the sweat from her brow and then looked up at the next woman in line, who came forward in a rush and fell to her knees. Korra stepped into place and was about to raise her hands when a man nearby cleared his throat.

"Ah, Avatar Korra?" It was the bearded waterbender she had healed several benders back. His expression was grave. "You may want to stop your friend before he gets himself in trouble."

"What?" Korra turned and spotted them at once. Mako was speaking low and fast and pointing out the door through which they'd come. He looked furious. Inches from him stood Iroh, narrow-eyed and almost calm, except for the hands fisted at his sides and the tendon that kept hopping in his jaw. The waterbender was right. This looked like trouble.

Some women might have tried to break up the argument with a distraction, something that wouldn't call too much attention to the two firebenders and would give them a reason to get out of the room. Korra was pretty tired. She could have easily faked a collapse, had that crossed her mind. It would have hardly been faking at all. But Korra was not the sort of woman who tiptoed around awkward situations or fluttered in to spread pleasantness and goodwill.

With hundreds of eyes on her, Korra marched across the front of the assembly hall and stopped within arm's reach of the two, scowling. Iroh saw her coming and checked his posture, clasping his hands behind his back once more. Mako was a second slower and did not quite manage to wipe the anger from his face as he straightened and crossed his arms. Korra looked back and forth between them and braced her hands on her hips. "What's the problem here?"

"He thinks I don't—"

"Better discussed in private," Iroh said firmly. He and Mako shared a silent sideways glare but said nothing; at least they seemed to agree on this much. Iroh looked quickly back to Korra. "Mostly a misunderstanding, I'm sure. I'm sorry for any embarrassment this may have caused you, Avatar Korra."

"I'm not embarrassed – it wasn't me picking a fight with a friend in front of a crowd."

Mako's eyes slid past her to the long line of benders. Korra couldn't see them at her angle but she noticed they were being very quiet. Watching, no doubt. Iroh did not look at them at all. He only dipped his chin a degree in acknowledgement of her words and then cleared his throat.

But Mako spoke first. "You can stop whenever you want, Korra. You've been at this for nearly an hour now. There's no way you can get through all of these people in one day."

Korra turned to look at them all, so many left. The woman was still kneeling, waiting "I can go a bit longer. But we will have to continue this tomorrow. General Iroh," she said, turning back to look at him, "could this be done outside? Republic City – and all the Equalists hiding out there – should know that I can undo Amon's damage."

Iroh nodded. "Good idea. I'll arrange it for the morning." He frowned and glanced off to one side. "There have been some other ideas for publicity thrown around as well. I would like to hear your thoughts on them this evening."

Korra nodded, though she was a little baffled. Why would the General of the United Forces want her thoughts on publicity tactics? Didn't he have specialists? Advisors?

Iroh called over the bearded waterbender. "This is Corporal Lukka. He'll show you to your rooms when you're finished here and then my office after the dinner hour. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to meet with Master Tenzin." He issued a curt nod and marched from the room.

"Watch out for that guy, Korra."

She turned and frowned up at Mako. His narrow eyes were locked on the empty doorway. "What are you talking about? He helped us beat Amon."

"He helped save his own fleet." Mako looked to her and his brows crept into a worried angle. He checked to see where Lukka stood and then leaned close to Korra's ear. "And I don't like the way he looks at you."

* * *

Fong was about two seconds away from whipping out his kali sticks and clobbering this hobo to death. Forget electrocution. He'd do it the hard way for the sheer pleasure of bringing this particular annoyance to an end.

"You're a pretty bleak-looking fella, you know that? Must have a real sad story with a mustache that long!"

Fong sat lower against the wall and pulled the damp newspaper higher to cover his dark clothes. "I said get away from me, old man. Are you deaf or just stupid?"

"Hey, hey. I just wanna help a fellow who's a little down on his luck, that's all! I can show you where to find a tasty hot meal…"

The guy kept hopping around the alleyway like a moron while Fong was trying to be inconspicuous. He had to hide here until it was fully dark. Then he could move freely about the city. Until dark, all it would take was one turned Equalist to identify Amon's old lieutenant. One traitor and the revolution could suffer yet another critical blow.

Normally, Fong could hide in this alley without disturbance all afternoon and could watch the people come and go out on the street. Innocent people, most of them. Good people leading their kids around and just trying to live their lives. Fong had been one of them once. Now he wasn't; he'd become a soldier, and he could never go back. But he could watch them live their happy lives and a little part of that happiness could be his because, at the core of everything, he was fighting for them.

A little girl paused in the mouth of the alleyway to watch the hobo do his obnoxious dance. She grinned and started pointing and there in the sun she looked like some glowing spirit of merciful forgiveness. Her mother snatched her up and hurried off.

Fong let out the breath that was aching in his chest. "Look, I'm not hungry, alright? I just want to be left alone."

"Aw, folks say that all the time – doesn't mean it's true." The hobo crouched just past Fong's feet and wrapped his arms around his knees. "Times are hard for lots of people. If I was gonna guess, I'd say you're missing someone right now. Pretty girl, maybe?"

He was easily within striking range. Probably no one on the street would see it happen here in the shadows. But Fong didn't move except to lower his chin to the corner of the paper. It folded, tender from the rain. "The prettiest," he said.

"I bet she misses you an awful lot too, wherever she is."

She didn't. She couldn't possibly, not after what he had done. Fong shut his eyes.

The hobo talked and cajoled and did his stupid dances for probably another hour. Felt like an hour. Fong went on playing dead though and eventually the old crack-pot went away. Darkness came and street lamps buzzed on. Only every other light was lit. The city had to preserve resources in these hard times. Or that's what the kid General kept saying on the radio.

Fong smiled and stood slowly, his long body uncurling as the papers fell to the pavement around him. Hard times for the city meant easy pickings for the Equalists, not just fewer streetlights to dodge but true strength. There really were a lot of suffering people out there – and suffering people were angry people, people who could be convinced that the problem wasn't the Equalists but the benders who controlled the city.

The pavement was damp still from the hard rain that had fallen all morning. Fong kept to the smaller side streets and alleys and made his way toward the shop district. More and more of the shop owners knew his face these days. More and more were glad to see him, welcomed him with news and supplies, donations to the cause.

All because of that kid General. Because of the austerity and raised taxes, the curfew, the searches and often intimidating interviews. The list went on and on. Funny, really – sure made Fong want to roll – that everything the United Forces did to root out the Equalists only buried the rebellion deeper. The numbers of their sympathizers had exploded since the Avatar left the city. Sure, there were cowards gone informant, but there were a few implants too, spies Fong had sent to confuse and misdirect.

Oh yeah, Amon is still in charge. Sure, the new base is underground. Hey, you know, I think I remember something about a secret training facility in the mountains. No? Well, maybe those other mountains…

Creeping through an alley, Fong heard the faint huffs of firebending and dodged into a narrow doorway just as a patrol passed in the nearby street. The soldiers' boots scraped the pavement as they marched and, when the light was gone, Fong slipped out of the alley and followed them like one of their own shadows. Nine. There were always nine. One officer, eight grunts. Always at least six benders.

Soldiers were running themselves ragged in the streets day and night. Rebuilding, interrogating, searching – it seemed they never stopped moving. And no wonder. Fong smirked. The planes had taken out an entire division and the remaining force wasn't enough to really do their job in a city this big. That had been Amon's genius at work. It would be hard to get another big attack like the first one with the United Forces spread out all around the city. Fong had some ideas, though. He wasn't the new leader of the Equalist revolution for nothing.

Like this, for instance. Nights, Fong walked the streets, dodging around the exhausted red-coat patrols and showing his face to everyone who so much as looked sideways at a bender. Sometimes, soldiers hassled people about curfew and Fong was there, usually with a few chi-blockers, to keep things from turning ugly. He'd won more than a few supporters that way. His was the face of the new Equalist revolution – haggard but devoted and more importantly a real face. A human face. Not some traitor behind a mask and a fake scar.

Amon, Noatak, whoever he was, was gone for good if he was as smart as he'd always seemed. Fong wasn't that smart. He had no genius for strategy. His plans were simple, a step-by-step march to overthrow the oppressors. He hadn't wanted to lead. But Amon had failed them all and Fong… Well. There was nothing left for him but the revolution.

The soldiers took a right and, dipping from shadow to shadow, Fong followed. He would keep an eye on the patrol for a few blocks and then slip away to circle around to the shop district. Talk to Kugi in her salon. Maybe the Avatar had arrived today. Kugi would know.

She was the first to hear the rumors that the Avatar had figured out how to reverse Amon's gift. People believed or didn't because they wanted to or didn't but Fong wouldn't be surprised if it was true. After all, the traitor had been a bender and his gift had doubtless been a part of that bending. It only made sense that the Avatar could control that, too.

Now she would come and try to sooth the benders' fears and squash the hopes of everyone else. Only it wasn't going to happen that way. Not this time.

Fong peeked around a corner the soldiers had turned and froze. They'd caught someone violating curfew. A man with uneven brown hair and a scorched blue jacket. His right arm was gone above the elbow. Fong recognized him and bared his teeth.

"…trying to tell you that I must see the Avatar right away. She's here, isn't she? I have vital information regarding Amon." Tarrlok peered around the faces of the soldiers and huffed at whatever he saw. He made an odd gesture, as if reaching for a breast pocket only to remember that he didn't have one in that jacket. His hand dropped to his side and his voice came out even more ragged. "I was a respected member of the United Republic Council for over five years – does that count for nothing?"

The officer in charge – a woman, waterbender by the bead in her hair – was watching him through narrowed eyes. "You're also a criminal and a known bloodbender, _Councilman_ Tarrlok. Michi, cuff him."

One of the grunts stepped up to Tarrlok and took his wrist, clamping a steel ring around it. Then he frowned and hesitated. "Er, Lieutenant? I've got the one wrist, but what do I cuff it to?"

Tarrlok hung his head and his hair drooped in his face. He'd clearly tried to tie it back but the binding was loose and a lot of the hair was too short now for it anyway. Fong smirked. Pitiful.

The officer spoke with measured patience. "Latch it on a belt, Private. And hustle. We have a patrol to complete."

"Ah, permission to ask a question, sir?" An older grunt raised his hand. Much older. His hair was gone on top and heavily salted everywhere else.

Fong could see the lieutenant's fractional stiffening, her forced nod. "Go ahead."

"Sir, I'm wondering if we shouldn't take this one directly to the prison. If he's dangerous, we shouldn't risk completing the patrol, should we?"

"Two blocks out of the way won't have much effect on the level of risk, Private Teklek. We finish our route as assigned."

"Yes sir," he said and saluted maybe a bit harder than was normal.

Fong narrowed his eyes and mentally marked the old soldier as well as the two younger ones exchanging a glance beside him. It was good to know the fault-lines in these squads. They went down so much faster when they didn't know how to fight together.

The lieutenant gave a terse command and they set out with their prisoner in tow. Tarrlok did not raise his head as they walked. That man looked beaten. In more ways than one.

Fong slipped past that street and moved on to the alley he would cut through to reach Kugi's. The walls were close and so dark there and his footsteps were tiny despite the enormity of his thoughts. Tarrlok's appearance here wasn't just a helpful visit from a resigned council member. It meant more, though Fong was not sure what yet, and it had a very dangerous potential to complicate the next step in his plan. And if the Avatar had returned…

Fong stopped in the darkness there and smirked. Amon had been stupid to underestimate the scope of her power as he had, to think that his gift could supersede hers. How could he not have seen it? It was her purpose, as it was always the Avatar's purpose, to keep the benders under control.

And it was that purpose that made her the perfect tool for the Equalists' revolution.

* * *

AN: Thanks so much to you generous reviewers out there - I'm definitely feeling the love! I hope this chapter was enjoyable, too.

The lieutenant doesn't actually have a name in the series, but I like him (how can you not like the guy who gets beat up over and over but keeps coming back, seemingly unfazed?) so I figured he deserved a name.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thank you all so much for your reviews and support! Hope you enjoy this one! (You'll tell me if it's too slow, right? Not telling an author that a chapter is slow is like letting them walk around with toilet paper on their shoe.)

* * *

.

Korra was beat. She felt like she'd just had a day-long tournament packed into a couple hours – and then lost every bout. Sure, a lot of benders had gone home happy today… but a lot more hadn't. Their faces were in her mind, pleading. Just one more. One more. And Korra had done one more and then another after that and another until she was so tired she could hardly stand up straight as she walked out of that assembly hall.

Mako had waited until they were in the dim hallway to pull her close and help carry some of her weight. He didn't say anything, just pulled her along and looked down at her in that way he'd had ever since she'd escaped from Tarrlok. Korra knew she should have been grateful for the help, and for the sign that he cared about her, but she was tired and his gait was different from hers and this whole carry-me thing wasn't as pleasant as it had been when she had actually needed help. It also didn't help that Mako had nearly gotten in a fight with one of their allies over something as stupid as a look.

Finally, she shrugged and sighed and, when he didn't take the hint, said, "I can walk on my own, you know. I'm not dying."

Mako frowned and eased off a little but didn't let go. "I just want to help, Korra. You're exhausted."

"Yeah but I can walk just fine," she said.

"Why waste the energy when I can help you?" Mako asked.

Korra didn't want to say _Because it bothers me_ because that sounded pretty ungrateful, especially considering all Mako had done for her in the past few weeks, so instead she just sighed and went along with him. It took more energy to argue, anyway.

Corporal Lukka led them up several flights of stairs and down a corridor lined with numbered doors. Offices, Korra realized blearily, but when Lukka knocked on a specific door and Asami opened it from inside, the room beyond didn't look like an office. There were two cots and a short table. Some vaguely familiar bags were tossed on a desk that had been pushed up against one wall. In the center of the room, a coal heater was set up on a fireproof pan, glowing from within.

Asami took one look at Korra and opened the door wide. Mako guided her through. Korra didn't see it, but heard Asami thank the corporal and close the door.

With a sigh, Korra drew away from Mako and plopped her rear on one of the cots. It was stiff and she could feel the wooden supports through the pallet. She poked them a couple times, frowning. "Why aren't we going back to Air Temple Island?" she asked.

"Take a wild guess." Mako folded his arms over his chest. Korra turned her frown on him, then looked to Asami.

She was peering at Mako with a raised eyebrow, but caught Korra's look and shrugged. "The soldier who brought me here said Iroh was worried about security on the island and couldn't spare the resources to send a unit with us." Mako nodded as if this was no surprise but Asami peered at Korra, brow furrowing. "What happened?" she asked.

"The great Iroh had her restore bending for nearly two hours. She's totally drained."

"Actually," Korra said, bracing her hands on the edge of the bed at either side of her hips and frowning again up at Mako, "I pushed myself as far as I could go today because, if you hadn't noticed, there are a lot of people who need my help. If I give up every time I get tired, I'll never get through all of them."

Mako held out a hand toward her as if presenting reason right there in his palm. "You're still recovering, Korra. If you burn yourself out, nobody else is going to be able to help."

"I'm as strong as I've ever been," she said, standing suddenly. "Stop treating me like an invalid, Mako."

His pointed brows angled in hurt, then turned downward. "You don't need me? That's fine." Mako turned toward the door, hands balling into fists at his sides. He yanked it open and paused in the doorframe, peering back over his shoulder. "I'll be with Bolin. In case you change your mind." The door shut gently behind him.

Korra sat hard on the cot and made a disgusted sound. Her forehead felt hot and heavy in her hands and the bones of her elbows dug into her knees. Now she'd hurt his feelings. She should probably go after him right now, try to tell him it was just stress, seeing all those people…

"Woah," Asami said quietly, as if coming out of a frozen state. "I'm sorry I didn't give you guys some privacy…"

Korra looked up and found her standing exactly where she had been before but now with her head lowered and her arms crossed. "Don't worry about it – I'm sorry you had to see that. Can I ask you…? Was I… overly harsh?"

Asami's eyebrows crept up her forehead. "I think I'll stay out of it, if you don't mind. I'm not exactly in the best position for unbiased observations."

"Ah, sorry. That was a stupid thing to say." Korra bit her lip and glared off to one side, then peered back up at her. "I'm really sorry things happened the way they did. I never intended… I've gotta be the worst friend ever at this point."

Asami was quiet for a minute, then came to sit on the bed next to Korra's, leaning back on her hands. "Well, you did come over to my house and eavesdrop on my father's phone calls. And then you accused him of being an Equalist and incited a full-blown investigation. And then you turned out to be _right_. Oh, and you dinged my car before we blew it up." She sighed and, mouth a pretty pout, stared up at the ceiling. "I guess by stealing my boyfriend you were just following the trajectory of destruction that you've always had in my life."

Korra listened with her mouth slightly open and frost creeping out from her gut. She really had ruined Asami's life. Just like that. Hi, I'm the Avatar and everything you care about is a lie. "Asami, I'm so sorry. I—"

"But you also have this sick gift for showing me the truth," Asami cut in. She was looking at Korra now, not smiling but not exactly angry either. "And as a person, I like you a lot. You're capable and tough and not afraid to take a risk – nothing like most of the girls I've grown up around. I really want to be your friend, Korra."

"I feel the same way about you, Asami."

She did smile then. It was a tiny, sad thing. "Maybe when I get back things will work out a little more in our favor."

Korra sat up and braced her hands on her thighs. "When you get back from what? Where are you going?"

Asami took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. "It's time I sorted out my father's business. The legitimate part, I mean. Satomobiles are still selling somewhere and it's been weeks since anyone signed any paperwork."

"But…" Korra stared, mentally groping. "But what about the Equalists? And Amon? There's so much left to do. You're just going to leave us and… go sign forms?"

"For a while, yes." Asami's frown shifted at the sight of whatever was on Korra's face. She tipped her head to one side and her eyebrows tilted back. Her teeth showed, just the tiniest bit. "Please don't make me say it."

And Korra understood. It was Mako. Her and Mako. Asami didn't want to be around them like at the South Pole, not when she could be anywhere else. And Korra could understand that, though she wished so much that it wasn't the case. "I'll really miss your driving, Asami."

"You'll have to come out to the track sometime," she said. "Maybe we can improve your parking skills."

"Ha. Funny." Korra hung her head, smiling a pained kind of smile. "I would like that, though."

.

* * *

.

After a couple of wrong guesses, Mako stuck his head into a converted office and found Bolin sitting on the floor, trying to teach Pabu how to do a back-flip. When the door shut behind him, Mako leaned against it and rubbed his face.

"Bolin, I wish you'd just give up already. I don't think Pabu is ever gonna learn this one."

Bolin didn't even look up. "Brother mine, I am frankly shocked at your lack of faith. Pabu, once he sets his mind to it, can learn anything. Right, buddy?" He wiggled a piece of banana-cracker in front of the fire ferret, who only reached for it and then stared at Bolin with his head tipped to one side. "He just doesn't understand why it's important yet. That's all. As soon as I communicate the significance of the back-flip, he'll be all over it."

Mako scuffed across the room to the cot that didn't have so much ferret fur on it and lay down. "I mean that I don't think it's physically possible. Look at the size of his legs and compare that to the size of his stomach. It's not gonna happen."

Bolin did look – Pabu looked perfectly capable to him – but then he looked more closely at his brother. "What's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem." Mako laid an arm over his eyes as if to sleep.

"You only ever criticize Pabu's training when you have a problem, Mako." Bolin leaned back on his hands. Pabu snatched up the banana-cracker and scurried under the bed to eat it. "What's up?"

Mako heaved a sigh. "What do you think of Iroh?" he asked at last.

Bolin shrugged, looking up at the ceiling and scratching his chest. "Nice enough guy. Not afraid of heights. Very muscley back."

Mako lifted his arm and looked up at his brother, frowning.

"We were tied up together," Bolin said loudly. "My back was tied to his back – it was hard not to notice, alright?"

Shaking his head, Mako relaxed and covered his eyes again. "Do you think we can trust him?"

"Yeah, sure. I guess."

"With Korra?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't—?" Bolin stopped and stared at his brother, wide-eyed. "You think he's got it for Korra?"

Mako sat up and turned to brace his back against the wall. "You saw the way he was watching her today, didn't you?"

"Ah, sure. We were all watching her, Mako. She's the Avatar. Does amazing stuff – you know."

"But the look on his face? Bolin, it was like, like Pabu staring at a frog-cricket."

Bolin's eyes squeezed tighter and he raised his chin. "You think he wants to eat her?"

"No, Bolin." Mako sank his forehead into one hand. "It's just… He's a powerful guy. Do you remember how it was with the Triple Threats when we worked for powerful guys?"

Bolin remembered. The color drained from his face. "I don't think Iroh's like that. No way."

"And what if he is?" Mako leaned forward, peering desperately at his brother. "What do we do if the guy running everything in this city turns out to be just as bad as them? Go to the police? He owns the police. The council? Tenzin is the only one left and his family is _right here_, surrounded by Iroh's guards."

Bolin said nothing, only staring at the floor with troubled eyes.

Mako rubbed his face and gritted out the rest. "If he decides to go after Korra and she says no, what do you think will happen?"

For a second, Bolin looked pained. But then his brow furrowed and he frowned. "He'll back off if he knows what's good for him. And if he doesn't, Korra will knock his teeth in."

"But what if he surprises her? What if he drugs her or knocks her out or—"

"Mako!" Bolin was standing now, holding his empty hands out to either side. "She's the Avatar. She beat Amon even after he took her bending away. Whatever Iroh might be up to – if he's even up to anything – she's got it handled. You don't need to worry about it."

Mako sat back against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. "Fine, Bolin. If you say so."

"Great!" Bolin clapped his hands and rubbed them together vigorously. "Someone is supposed to be here soon with dinner. I've got my fingers crossed that it'll be dragon-chicken but I guess hippo-pork would be good too…"

Mako was no longer listening. He was scowling at the floor, trying to figure out what he was going to do to save Korra. Because contrary to what his little brother thought, Mako did need to worry about it. He had been there when Amon took Korra's bending. He had watched her body contort against her will, had watched the vitality drain from her eyes – and the whole time he had been pinned to the floor with his own blood, unable to help. He had let it happen to her then. He wouldn't let anything happen to her again.

.

* * *

.

After a simple but relatively pleasant dinner, a soldier came to take Korra to Iroh's office. Asami did that surprised blink she had when Korra explained what it was about, then rolled her eyes and shook her head. Her smile was strange, exhausted. She said something too quiet to hear, then refused to repeat it. Still tired from the exertions of the afternoon, Korra hadn't pressed her.

As the soldier led Korra along one corridor and mounted some stairs, he kept stealing glances at her from the corner of his eye. He was about her age and had bright green eyes that flashed pretty obviously when he looked at her. Finally, when they came to the top of the stairs, Korra stopped and crossed her arms, frowning at him. "Alright. What?"

The soldier stood frozen with a panicked look on his face and then, finally, sighed. "I'm sorry Avatar Korra, I just… I heard you were at the attack on the first division and… I wonder if you saw what happened to my sister."

"Oh." Korra looked back down the stairs up which they'd come. She didn't remember much from that attack. Because she tried not to remember. Bombs exploding everywhere, steel twisting apart like foil, people screaming and vanishing into the water… She should have done more. She was the Avatar. She should have been able to do more.

Korra looked back at the soldier, who was biting his lip as he waited. It was too late for the fleet, but she could do this. "What did she look like?"

"Short black hair. Earthbender's uniform. She would have been on the flagship." His eyes dropped. "On deck, I think. It was her shift."

Korra thought, screwed up her face and really tried, but she couldn't remember the deck of the flagship – except for the explosion that had blasted the tower to flaming wreckage and sent it crashing down on that deck. Had this man's sister gotten out of the way? "I'm so sorry," Korra said, and she made herself look him in the eye. "I didn't see her."

The soldier was already nodding. "That's okay. I knew it was kind of a long shot." He tried to smile but that wasn't quite what happened to his face. "Thank you for trying anyway." He took a step to go on and Korra, after a moment's hesitation, followed.

The last corridor seemed to stretch on forever and then finally the soldier rapped on a door and a voice inside said, "Come." He opened the door and held it for her and Korra hesitated as she passed, sure that she should say something, some final bit of comfort or wisdom or anything really. But nothing came to her and she just stood there looking at the soldier who finally looked back at her. And he actually did smile, then. It was a tight smile, but a more successful attempt than the last.

"Avatar Korra," said Iroh. He had risen and held out a hand to the chair opposite his desk. "Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat."

Korra nodded and, with a final glance at her guide, turned into the room. As she settled into the chair – an ornate piece with a stiff cushion that didn't really match anything else in the office – Iroh dismissed the soldier by name. Private Cheng.

Iroh sat again and said something apologetic as he sifted through a few of the papers on his desk. Korra didn't really hear him. Abruptly, interrupting, she asked, "Do you know…? But I guess you've got a lot of soldiers and you really can't know them all by name, can you?"

Iroh's hands went still and he peered at her. He was frowning, but it didn't seem to be an overtly unhappy expression; it was like that was the natural state of his face. "Try me."

"Cheng's sister. He said she was stationed on your ship, so maybe…" Korra shrugged and stared at the papers arranged before him.

"Private Yune," Iroh said. He sat back in his chair, though his hands lingered on the desk as if glued there. "Five-year voluntary enlistee, like her brother. She was on active duty during the attack and purported herself bravely as far as I saw. No body was found… though, a lot of bodies haven't been found."

Korra's eyes widened. "How do you remember all of that about one soldier?"

"I wrote the letter to her family," Iroh said, then dropped his eyes. When he looked back up at Korra, he worked his jaw to one side, uncertain for just an instant. "But I admit that I've written a lot of letters to a lot of families. It was mostly Private Cheng that has made Private Yune so memorable. They looked alike. In the eyes."

Korra nodded, but her head felt like it was teetering on top of her neck so she stopped. "How many soldiers did you lose?"

"Three hundred ninety-six." The number came out of his mouth like the name of a close friend.

Korra felt sick. Hundreds of people dead and lost. Blasted and crushed and drowned right there, all around her. And she had just grabbed Iroh and fled. She was the Avatar. She should have done more to help those soldiers. Should have been able to do more. Should have—

Iroh hesitated, perhaps seeing the blood drain out of her face, and went on. "Several were able to survive in the wreckage until a rescue team could be sent, but it took full teams of water- and metalbenders to get them out. They had to open the ships up on the seabed…" He shook his head, straightening. "But that's not why you're here, Avatar Korra."

Korra watched, not sure how Iroh's hands could be that steady as he straightened a stack of papers and turned a few pages around so that she could look at them. There were numbers. A chart. All sketched in fine, precise lines. Korra blinked, definitely not ready for this sudden shift from trauma to math class. Iroh was talking, explaining something about reduced Equalist support but a lot of false information. Underground bunkers with nothing but junk in them. Rallies described by witnesses who later disappeared. Fruitless searches in the mountains.

Korra could only think about those torpedoes that had zipped past her, barely missing as she twisted in the water but then blasting open the hull of a ship behind her. She could have done something then. There were a dozen things she could have done. But she had just twisted around to avoid them and let them go. Let it all go.

"Avatar Korra."

She jolted and looked up from the pages splattered with information to find Iroh frowning at her – and now he really did look unhappy. "Am I boring you?" he asked.

"No. It's just… I just hadn't realized."

Iroh peered down his nose at the figures on his desk. "A lot of people did expect the Equalist movement to fall apart without Amon. It's a common enough mistake."

"No, I mean the fleet." Korra touched her forehead with the tips of her fingers, dropped her hand. "I, I panicked. I didn't even—"

"Stop." Iroh held up a hand, shaking his head.

"I could have done so much differently. I could have saved so many lives and instead I just—"

"Avatar Korra!" His hand landed hard on her shoulder and she finally looked up. Iroh was leaning over the desk, his other hand splayed across those figures. His yellow eyes were wide, his teeth bared. But as she met his hard stare, his lips pursed and he withdrew back to his seat, straightening. "I'm sorry," he said. "I had almost forgotten. You're not…" He shut his eyes and some harsh emotion yanked at his jaw. When he looked back at Korra, though, his stare was firm but not unsympathetic.

"War is brutal, Korra. People die. Sometimes a different strategy would change things, spare lives, but we can't always go into battle with the best strategy. Mistakes are awful, but they happen; as a leader, it's your job to never repeat them. But right now, we need to talk about what we're going to do to combat the Equalists. Are you able to do that?"

Korra stared at Iroh, the way he sat so straight and watched her so evenly. He would have seemed cold, but… there was the way he had said that number, the way it came so precisely from his mouth. There was Private Cheng, whose loss Iroh knew so well.

But there was also something in his eyes that Korra wasn't sure she entirely understood. He cared very much about whatever answer she gave to this question. Whatever she said, it would determine everything that was to come. Was she able to talk about Equalists right now, knowing that she had failed to save almost four hundred people?

Korra hung her head and pressed her fingers to the soft wrinkles between her brows. She had failed to save them, but the Equalists were the ones who had flown the planes. And she found it, that spark in her chest that always drove her on, that made her sit down and cry for life instead of jumping off that cliff. She was stubbornly alive at her root, and stubbornly wanted to move forward. And stubbornly, fiercely, she wanted to crush the Equalists into pulp for all the pain and destruction they'd caused.

"It's alright, Korra," Iroh was saying. His voice was quiet, but taut with all the tension of a rope holding up a speared whale. "This wasn't my best idea. You've… had a long day."

"I'm not weak." Korra sat up in her chair and gripped the armrests.

Iroh blinked at her, thick brows raised. "I didn't say you were."

She squared her shoulders and snatched a handful of papers off the desk, frowning at him. "Then let's do this."

.

* * *

.

Iroh watched the Avatar pour over those charts and numbers and wanted to reach across the desk and hug her. Or clap her on the shoulder, more like. That was much more appropriate for an officer. But she wasn't a soldier. She was here as his equal, an advisor more than anything. So perhaps a hug was more appropriate after all. She probably hugged hard, with arms like those.

Iroh shook his head to clear that thought away and frowned down at the papers remaining on his desk. What was he thinking? Hugging the Avatar? That was entirely out of line. She possessed a spirit so old that he couldn't even imagine it. He had relics in his pocket from less than a century ago, worn with handling and age already, and that was just a single cycle of the Avatar. Civilizations rose and crumbled and the Avatar went on walking the world.

"What's this, ah, blue piece of pie represent?" She asked, peering up at him.

Iroh squinted. "Food sources still available to the city. It should be labeled."

"It totally isn't." Korra looked back at the chart. "Oh."

Iroh very nearly said _I told you so_, but restrained himself. Barely. It had been easy to forget today, seeing her in action and then having her call him out for arguing with her boyfriend, that Korra was still a teenager. Avatar Aang had done amazing things as a twelve-year-old and despite all of his grandfather's stories about hog-monkeys and giant fish, Aang always appeared in Iroh's imagination as a little adult, soaring off to war on his glider. A lot like Tenzin, actually. Minus the beard.

If Iroh had been thinking a bit more objectively, he would not have told Korra the death toll on the first division. Breaking terrible news like that was a shock on anyone's system and she _was_ young and she truly had had a long day. The way she had practically fallen into his visitor's chair, the vague weariness in her eyes; she was exhausted. Iroh could see it. But he had been confident. She had handled seeing so many of Amon's victims so well that he had just assumed that she would be prepared for the answer when she asked the question. But she hadn't been.

And yet, here she was.

Korra narrowed her eyes at something on the page and worked her jaw over to one side, mouth pinched tight. "This can't be right. How can the city be functioning on a tenth of the electricity it used to need?"

"Cycling power-outs," Iroh said. He braced his chin in one palm and his elbow on the arm of the chair. "Districts are informed when they will have power and when they won't. Everyone is encouraged to conserve electricity. We distributed pamphlets." He sighed. "It's the best we can do until there are enough firebenders capable of producing lightning who can keep the mills running full-time again. Until then, it's just a dozen or so United Forces firebenders running this entire city." And Iroh himself, at least four morning out of the week, though he wasn't about to admit to that.

Korra nodded, but her face scrunched up. "That seems like a bad move on Amon's part, disabling the city's power source."

"Actually, if his goal was to make people unhappy, it was pretty clever."

She looked up at him, still frowning, so Iroh went on.

"Amon wanted a full-blown revolution. Not just in this city, but throughout the world. In order for a rebellion to rise up, people have to be really unhappy with the status quo. And if he had kept the benders working in service professions, the majority of people would have been comfortable enough that they wouldn't have felt compelled to reach out from the city and expand the revolution. Without power or clean water or working sewers, things would have gotten pretty desperate here."

"But couldn't that have just as easily backfired?" Korra asked, waving the chart idly. "I mean, wouldn't a lot of people have complained that things were better when bending powered the city?"

"Maybe. But I believe Hiroshi Sato had some major plans for new infrastructure works underway. Two of the city's lightning mills have been completely dismantled, but whatever they were planning to build there is a mystery to us. The blueprints all vanished when we retook the city." Iroh hesitated, peering down at his desk, and decided not to mention how truly unhelpful Sato had been. That could wait. "But if you're caught up on the resource situation, we really need to discuss what the Equalists are up to now."

"Done," Korra said, slapping the papers back on his desk. "What kind of attacks have you seen?"

She was a little more forceful with his documents than Iroh might have liked. He straightened them, frowning, and then said, "None at all."

"None?" Korra sat forward, now, hands braced on her splayed knees. It was some pretty unladylike posture, to be sure. But Iroh couldn't find it in himself to disapprove of the Avatar's comportment. That just seemed silly.

He could, however, easily disapprove of her inattentiveness. "As I was trying to tell you earlier, there have been a lot of informants and anonymous tips. Something is definitely going on under the surface, but we can't pin it down anywhere. We don't even know who the new leader is."

Korra sat back again, looking completely deflated. "How are we supposed to fight them if we can't find them?" She lifted a hand before her and let it slap down on her thigh, useless.

"I believe that is their thought exactly," Iroh said. He leaned forward with his forearms on his desk and splayed out his hands on the papers. "They are working from the shadows more than ever without Amon to lead them, because they are trying to create a different kind of movement."

This was where being a General became truly exciting. Iroh stood from his desk and paced slowly behind it. "Amon wanted to make a war on the benders in which he was the weapon. Now that he's gone, the Equalists have to be reevaluating that strategy. Yes, they have weapons and techniques that can take us down one-on-one, but we have weapons too, and greater numbers than before." He spun on his heel, linking his hands behind him as he paced on. "And that is what they must have to fight us, Korra. Numbers. We are not playing the same game anymore. The city is in shambles and my instinct tells me that Equalist support is rising. If we don't do some serious damage control really fast, the Equalist attitude toward benders will be predominant in Republic City. Then we really will have a problem."

When he turned back to Korra, Iroh found her staring at him with wide eyes. "What kind of damage control?" she asked at last.

"First things first, power and water." Iroh returned to his chair, his mouth turning up in a smile. "And thanks to you, that's easily within reach."

Korra sat a little straighter. "Got it. What do we do about the food shortages?"

"Taxes have supported a lot of food supply for the city so far, but that can't go on forever. We're fighting for public opinion now, after all, and taxing people won't make them think better of benders." Iroh's smile stretched out like a stiff old man. "We have to get more creative on that one."

.

* * *

.

Mako crept through the hallways, listening at door after door and scrambling to get out of the way of the soldiers who marched around, running errands. There weren't a lot of them. Patrols were focused around entry points and the few soldiers Mako evaded mostly seemed to be carrying dishes back to whatever kitchen they'd set up. One had a slip of paper and, thinking it might be a wire to Iroh, Mako followed that guy up three flights of stairs only to find out the message was for Bumi. The commander's voice, what little of it escaped out around the soldier standing in the door, wasn't its usual boisterous self.

"…that I'll still have no interest in the post, regardless of how often they ask. Wait, wait – they pay for this, right? By the letter? Then make it 'I shall perpetuate my continual and dedicated abstinence from partaking in such most egregious…'"

Mako moved on. There was no time for spying on Tenzin's brother. He was getting close. If Bumi was on this level, then Iroh probably was too and it was vital that he found Korra before anything happened to her. He'd lost a lot of time waiting for Bolin to fall asleep – although the earthbender was still messed up from South Pole daylight and besides probably had the earliest bedtime of any sixteen-year-old alive. Still, it had felt like forever as he lay there in the dark, remembering that training room, Amon's voice, Korra's helpless cry.

Mako turned a corner and slipped down another passageway – and then he heard it, Korra's voice, muffled by a door midway along the hall. He'd nearly gone right past it. Creeping closer to the door, he crouched and turned his ear toward the keyhole. He couldn't make out her specific words, just her tone. She sounded tense, uncertain. Mako clenched his fists. Not too late, but getting there.

Then Iroh spoke, and his voice did carry, mostly. "… how long does it usually last?"

Korra said a couple of words, sounding a little annoyed.

"That's nothing. In the Fire… is often extended on into the peak of… by playing up rivalries and anticipation for the climactic… real frenzy…"

Mako, eyes wide in horror, pressed his ear and one hand against the door for balance. Was he too late, after all? Korra was speaking again and she sounded… she sounded almost excited, now. Was he hearing correctly? No way was he hearing correctly. Mako rubbed his chest through his workman's jacket and pressed harder against the door.

"Yes," Iroh was saying now. It sounded like he was smiling just a little. Arrogant son of a… "…only recently noticed you have a very well-built… I imagine it can accommodate a pretty sizeable… How many would you say?"

Korra made a thoughtful sound and paused, then gave some estimate. Mako could practically picture her shrugging and waving one hand. No way was she talking about what he thought she was talking about. They hadn't even gone past kissing yet! Just, no way.

"Excellent." Iroh was making some quiet comments now and Mako screwed up his face and stopped rubbing his chest, listening hard. "…think carefully about your decision, Korra. It will inevitably be much more difficult for you that it was in the past. Tarrlok may have needed you only on certain occasions but as we have already discussed, I will be placing far more demands on your time and expecting a great deal more active participation."

Mako's mouth fell open. Tarrlok? No. Just, just-

"I already told you I was in," Korra said, a little loudly now. Mako was shaking his head. "And I have no doubt the rest of my team will be too."

Wait, what was that supposed to—?

But as Mako's head jerked up in surprise, it bumped the doorknob, knocking the latch loose. The door swung open under his weight and he spilled onto the floor before a very surprised Korra and an instantly irritated-looking Iroh.

.

* * *

AN: Cliffhangery! Back on the scene! Now I have to sleep! x.x


End file.
